


Eyes on Me ("Ain't Nothin' Adorable About Me, Asshole")

by XxamoremortexX



Series: Eyes on Me [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl is awkward as hell, Fluff, Jesus is a little shit, Kissing, M/M, Non-Apocalypse AU, aggressive flirting, and a cocky son of a bitch, darus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6340075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxamoremortexX/pseuds/XxamoremortexX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"No time to explain. Just play along and don't punch me."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Daryl gets dragged out for a night of celebrating with his support group only to find himself pushed to the outer edge of the circle. Sitting alone, he doesn't know what to do when he catches someone else's eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes on Me ("Ain't Nothin' Adorable About Me, Asshole")

**Author's Note:**

> I am hopelessly lost in the Darus ship, so here's my small contribution. It's not great, but I caught the writing bug the minute these two idiots started throwing punches. Just be kind and, hopefully, enjoy.

If there was one fundamental truth about Daryl Dixon, it would be that he would forever and always be considered the outsider. It wasn’t that he was the kind of person to swim against the current, more that no one ever cared to look at him enough to see which way he was going. It didn’t matter which circle he ran in—from the high school metal shop class to just following around Merle on whatever fuck up he had planned—somehow Daryl had always found himself pushed to the outer edge. 

Tonight was no different. When Maggie had told the rest of the support group about her and Glenn’s good news it was decided amongst the core members that a celebration was in order. Daryl would have been content just to give Maggie a hug, Glenn a pat on the shoulder and perhaps come to the next meeting with some kind of gift, but with the persuasion of Rick and Carol, he found himself being roped up into a night of mild drinking and loud celebration at the Hilltop Bar. 

Daryl would never admit it to anyone, but this group was the first time he’d ever felt like he’d had a real family. He’d loved Merle dearly, despite all of his faults, but Daryl knew that his brother was a bit of a bastard. Though he followed Merle everywhere he went all through his life, his older brother was never there for him, not when he needed it. Not when it really mattered. Still, the night he got a visit from the local Officer Friendly, Rick Grimes, telling him that his brother had been on a head-on collision on his bike, Daryl felt that his whole world went away with him. 

It was Rick who drove him to the coroner to make a positive identification on the body. It was Rick who gave Daryl his personal phone number and told him to call at any hour should he need to talk. And it was Rick who walked with him into the local support group for families and victims of drunk and drugged driving. Daryl had never felt more vulnerable or uncomfortable in his life than the first time he sat in that circle, all eyes on him, waiting for him to tell his sob story. He was better at sitting back, observing the others and learning what they had gone through, what made them into the people they were. 

Maggie’s old man had been a recovering alcoholic for over twenty years, but took the death of his wife too hard and in turn hit the bottle, ramming his car into a pole not too long after. Abraham lost his wife and two kids when some idiot swerved off the road and hit them. The driver almost didn’t survive Abraham beating him within an inch of his life, and for a long time, he felt like he had nothing to live for. Michonne’s boyfriend thought that it would be fun to indulge in some pot after picking their son up from daycare and Andre paid the price for it. She was angry for a long time afterwards, though Daryl noticed her smiling more and more these days. For Sasha, it was a double whammy in one year. Cancer took her boyfriend Bob, while a drunk driver took her big brother a few months later. Like Abraham, she felt like there was nothing keeping her tied to the world anymore. And Carol…she may have had it the worst of all. After finally being set free from her son of a bitch husband, she lost her daughter. Sometimes life just really wasn’t fair. 

Everyone in the group had some kind of tragedy and pain. They were all people with no connection and by all rights should have never even interacted, but they found each other in their darkest moments, and together they all became stronger. Daryl may have lost his brother, but he found a new family.

Unfortunately, this family would not let him out of a gathering so easily. Carol practically had to pull him by the ear to get him out that night. The irony that they were celebrating at a bar was not lost on Daryl, but the carpools had already been arranged and designated drivers assigned for the night. Daryl was rather thankful that he had not been chosen for the job for the night, because he didn’t think that he could handle being surrounded by everyone like this sober. 

Being in the group setting was one thing. At least there everyone was in a situation to focus on everyone else and give them what they needed. Out here in the open like this, so casual and loose, it became apparent to Daryl how much he didn’t belong here. Sitting alone at the bar, he looked back over to where the others were gathered together. To the casual observer, it may have just appeared that the only two who were together were Maggie and Glenn. The way they sat in the center of the circle, Glenn’s arm around Maggie and her head on his shoulder, made it very obvious. Not to mention the bright smile that hadn’t left Maggie’s face since she first broke the news. 

Daryl had a knack of picking up on the little things, though. Like the way Abraham had spent most of the night trying to get Sasha’s attention, and though she seemed to not care, he could see the way she would cut glances to the large man every once in a while, a little smile on her lips as she did. He saw that Rick—after a year’s worth of grieving Lori—was no longer wearing his wedding ring, and he was maybe sitting a little too close to Michonne. She never smiled that brightly when Rick wasn’t around. Good for them, he thought.

Carol, though, well that one came as a surprise. Daryl considered the two of them to be close—probably closer than Daryl thought he’d ever be with another person—but even he was caught off guard when she invited Tobin out for the night. If the way the two were picking at each other, affectionately teasing and bumping shoulders, was any indication, then it seemed like his best friend would soon finally be able to get something she needed. Something that Daryl himself, no matter how much he loved the woman, could never give her. He was happy for her. 

Everyone was happy. Everyone was pairing off, which meant that Daryl was the odd man out once more. No one was nudging his foot under the table or laughing with him over stupid little jokes. He was, as he always had been, alone and on the outside looking in. He knew by this point it shouldn’t bother him, but it still stung a little knowing that no one had noticed that he left the tables to sit alone at the bar top. 

Daryl Dixon was an observant man, which is why he nearly jumped out of his skin when someone snuck up beside him and quickly took the stool next to his.

“I know this is weird, but I’m going to start off by saying that I’m very sorry about this, and I need your help.”

It took Daryl a moment to realize that the person was actually talking to him. It took him even longer to get his brain working enough to make some kind of response. With hunched up shoulders, Daryl turned his head just enough to look at the stranger next to him through the strands of his hair. There was a man next to him, younger than himself, but not too much considering the impressive yet carefully maintained beard. His long sandy blonde hair was pulled back into a loose bun, allowing Daryl to get a good look at the guy’s face. First thing he noticed were a set of big eyes that were flashing back and forth from Daryl to something over his shoulder.

“…What?” 

“I need your help,” the guy repeated, still looking to something over Daryl’s shoulder.

“With what?”

“No time to explain.” He looked back to Daryl, actually holding eye contact, and damn if those weren’t the bluest eyes Daryl had ever seen. “Just play along and don’t punch me.”

Before Daryl could ask any more questions, the guy scooted his stool closer to Daryl and pressed up against his side so that their thighs were touching. Within a second, the guy’s arm was around Daryl’s waist and he was leaning on his head on his shoulder. Even though his head was beginning to spin from the confusion of it all, Daryl’s gut reaction was to push the guy off of him. When he tried, though, his hand squeezed Daryl’s hip and he ended up leaning with him, the both of them almost falling off their stools. 

Daryl was ready to throw this little prick to the floor when they were approached by a third party. Some large, lumberjack looking son of a bitch came up behind the little prick and put his hand on his shoulder. He tried to spin him around, but he held Daryl in a vice grip now and refused to let himself be moved.

“Go away, Ethan,” the guy said. “I’m busy right now.”

“You don’t get to just ignore me,” the other guy, Ethan, practically barked. 

“Actually, seeing how we’re not dating, that’s exactly what I get to do.” He turned his head to look at Ethan, and Daryl could just make out the side view of what must have been a pretty smug smile. The guy Ethan didn’t seem to like it. 

“Now if you don’t mind, I’m a little busy.” He nodded his head towards Daryl. The hand that was holding his hip started traveling up and down his side now, almost caressing.

The look on his face went dark, making Daryl tense up. Ethan grabbed the wrist of the guy’s free hand and tried to pull him up with a harsh tug. Instinct took over once again and Daryl was out of his stool so fast that it fell to the floor. Ethan was a few inches taller than Daryl, but that didn’t stop him from getting between the two and pressing himself close to him, his eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. Ethan backed up and focused on Daryl now. He still looked pissed, but Daryl knew that just from his appearance alone he looked intimidating enough to not be fucked with.

“This your new guard dog?” He asked the guy, but his eyes wisely stayed on Daryl. “You his little bitch now?”

“Best watch your mouth, sunshine,” Daryl said quickly. 

“Or what?” Ethan scoffed. “This slut gave it up for you already? Jesus, you fucking little fag—”

Whatever else he was planning to say was cut off when Daryl grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him close. With murder in his eyes, Daryl pressed forehead against his, letting the larger man hear the puff of air from his nostrils and the growl in the back of his throat. Ethan’s eyes went down—from shame or fear, he didn’t know—and he tried to back up, but Daryl held him in place. 

“You finish that thought, or fuck with him again, and I will beat your ass into the ground.” 

The tone of Daryl’s voice left no room for argument, and even he himself was convinced that he would make good on that threat. It was his nature to protect, whether he was aware of it or not. Ethan wisely chose not to speak anymore, but nodded his head to show that he understood. Daryl let go of his shirt with a shove that made him stumble back. He glanced to the other guy again, looking like he might try to start something. When Daryl stepped to him again, though, he backed off, shook his head and finally left. 

Daryl nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind and a chin resting against his shoulder.

“My hero,” the guy said. His voice was low, barely heard over the noise in the bar, but the way he said it right into Daryl’s ear made a shiver go down his spine.

He shook the other man off as fast as he could. When he turned around, the guy was laughing. Not in a mocking way, but mirthful, as if it had all been a fun little joke. Daryl let out something resembling a grunt and moved to walk away as fast as he could. Before he got two steps, though, the guy had his hand wrapped around his bicep to stop him.

“Wait,” he said. “I’m sorry, about all of that. It’s just…thank you. For what you did. Not a lot of people would have.”

Looking into those eyes, Daryl could see all of the mirth was gone, replaced by a deep sincerity. The man held Daryl’s gaze for a long time, and Daryl hated that he really couldn’t find the strength to look away. Fucking hypnotizing, those blue eyes were.

“Weren’t nothin’,” he mumbled. “Guy was a dick.”

“Yes, he was. Unfortunately that seems to be my type,” he said with a wistful sigh. “Can I at least buy you a drink? As a way to say thank you for defending my honor?”

Daryl gave a small shake of his head. “Nah. It’s alright.”

“Please?” 

Those damn eyes had him trapped. Before Daryl knew what he was doing, he gave a curt nod, and the hand on his bicep was gently pulling him back to the bar top. He was only able to finally look away when he saw the man’s lips begin to pull into a smug smile. 

“What are you having?” He asked when Daryl sat back down.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged.

“Alright then. Dealer’s choice.”

He turned away to get the bartender’s attention and Daryl took the time to take the other guy in. He was a small guy. Toned, but thin, like he would be knocked over by the change in the wind. He was wearing an oversized sleeveless shirt with a picture of a man on a motorcycle on the front. That made Daryl want to laugh. Someone as clean cut as him. Guy probably just bought the shirt thinking it would make him look cool, fucking hipster. He couldn’t for the life of him picture a guy like this on a bike…nah. The only way he would be on one would be sitting in the bitch seat, arms wrapped around the driver.

“Don’t stare too hard, you might hurt yourself.”

Daryl’s eyes lifted from the shirt to the guy’s face. That damn smirk was back on his lips, and those blue eyes were looking him up and down, examining him.

“I’m Paul,” the guy finally said. “But my friends call me Jesus. You can probably guess why,” he laughed.

“Plannin’ on turning my water into wine?”

Jesus chuckled at that, probably much harder than he should have. When he was done, he gave Daryl a wide smile, showing off his nice white teeth and making his eyes light up even more. Daryl hunched his shoulders and tried to hide behind the fringe of his hair. Those eyes kept following him, though.

“So…Do I get to learn my hero’s name?”

“I ain’t no damn hero,” Daryl huffed. 

“You stood up for somebody you didn’t know with no questions asked. That sounds pretty heroic to me.”

“…’M Daryl.”

The bartender chose that moment to set down two matching glasses of dark brown liquid. Jesus picked his up first and raised the glass towards Daryl.

“Well, Daryl, cheers then.”

Daryl picked up the glass and gave it an experimental sniff before tasting it. Jack and Coke.

“I took a wild guess,” Jesus said. “It was either that or one of the cocktails, and something tells me that you’re not a Sex on the Beach type of guy. Then again, I just met you, so I could be wrong about that.”

Daryl nearly choked on his drink. He was suddenly thankful for the dark lighting in the room that hid his blush. The way Jesus’ eyebrows were waggling, though, made him feel as if he could see it anyway. This guy was a fucking prick.

“So, Daryl. What’s got you here all alone on a Friday night?”

“I ain’t alone,” he said quickly. 

“You’re here with somebody then?” If the guy sounded hopeful, Daryl chose not to notice it.

“ ‘M here with some friends.” He inclined his head towards his group. Jesus followed the motion and smiled a little at the small circle of friends.

“They seem like they’re having fun.”

“Celebratin’,” he said by way of explanation. “Couple of ‘em are having a baby.”

“That is a cause for celebration. I’m guessing it’s the girl who’s practically glowing and the guy wrapped around her?” Daryl nodded. “They look happy. So why aren’t you celebrating with them?”

Daryl shrugged.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

“Maybe you talk too damn much, you think about that?” Daryl snapped. He expected the man to back off, as people usually did whenever Daryl go testy. Asshole just kept grinning.

“I’ve been told as much before. I’ll probably be told many more times in the future. Usually the only way to keep me shut up is to keep my mouth busy. So if that’s your plan…I’m all for it.” Those blue eyes flicked down directly to Daryl’s lips. The older man felt a shiver go through him and he threw back his drink, finishing it in two large gulps.

He wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand just to buy himself a few more seconds from having to deal with this shit. It wasn’t that Daryl was receiving this attention from a guy, more that he was receiving it at all. Most people who look at Daryl for more than two minutes avert their eyes and keep on walking. 

“Thanks for the drink.”

Daryl put his glass down and moved to get up, keeping his eyes down so he didn’t have to see that dick’s smug face.

“Wait, wait,” Jesus said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Just…don’t go just yet.”

Daryl took a second to look back at his group. Abraham must have said something, because suddenly everyone was laughing, Glenn throwing peanut shells at him. Everyone was having a good time, not even noticing that he was gone. He took a chance to look back at Jesus, seeing that the younger man was focused completely on him. There was no smile on him this time. Just an honest look. He swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat and reluctantly sat back down.

Minutes passed with neither man saying anything. Daryl’s fingers played with the condensation and spilled liquor on the bar top to keep himself busy and as a way to ignore the eyes he knew were watching him. Jesus didn’t say a word, but Daryl could see from his peripheral that his body was pointed towards him as he sipped away at his drink. In the distance, Daryl could hear his group still laughing. He couldn’t make out the words, but he heard the distinct sound of Rick trying to shout over everyone else. He wanted to go back over there, to be a part of the conversation and the crowd. He wanted to be back home, in his garage where the only thing that he had to worry about was tuning up his bike. He wanted to be anywhere but sitting here at this bar top.

“Why did ya pick me?” Daryl asked when the silence had stretched for over five minutes.

“What do you mean?”

“When you’re running from that dick, why did ya come over to me?” Daryl turned just enough in his chair so that he could look at Jesus from the corner of his eye.

The younger man looked pensive, his head tilted to the side like he was thinking the question over. Strands of his hair had fallen loose from his bun and were resting against his neck. Fingers itched to move them back and tuck them behind his ear. He curled his fingers into a fist to get rid of that thought. 

“Well,” Jesus started, “Ethan is a hard guy to shake. It helps to have a little back up sometimes.”

“So ya just needed someone to scare ‘im off?”

“I didn’t say that,” he said, raising a brow. “I just thought that if he saw me with the most attractive person in the room, he’d finally take the hint and leave me alone. The fact that you’re apparently a badass was just an added bonus.”

Daryl scoffed at the explanation and looked away. If this prick didn’t quit bullshitting him, Daryl was going to punch that damn smirk off his face. Jesus’ hand reached out and he boldly put it on Daryl’s thigh.

“Hey, I’m being serious here.” Daryl flinched and inched his body away. He didn’t push that hand off, though.

“Oh… you’re one of those kinds, huh?”

“One of what?” What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“One of those people who don’t even realize how good looking they are.”

“Shut up,” Daryl huffed.

“I’m serious. You’re not used to compliments, are you?”

The little shit was starting to get on his last nerve. Daryl didn’t come here to get analyzed by some know-it-all asshole. He came for…Shit, he didn’t know what the hell he was doing here anymore, or why he bothered to stay.

“Keep running your damn mouth, and your ass is going to end up on the damn ground,” Daryl warned.

“There’s that fighting spirit,” Jesus grinned. “Look, I get it. You don’t have to say or do anything you don’t have to, and if you want to leave or go back to your friends, go for it. But I just want to say, you seem like a good guy—with cheekbones that look like they could cut glass—and I would like to get to know you more.”

For a moment, Daryl really wished that he hadn’t finished his drink so quickly. He could have used the distraction. All he had now were his surroundings. The smell of stale peanuts, he sounds of laughter and happiness around him, the feel of his heart pounding in his chest, and the sight of a beautiful pair of blue eyes that looked at him like he was the only person in the room.

“…Least ya could do is buy me another damn drink if ya tyrin’ to get into my head.”

“Trust me, it’s not just your head I’m trying to get into.”

Daryl grimaced. “It’s gonna take a hella lot more of booze than this.”

“I’ve got all night, sweetheart.” 

Jesus laughed and bumped his shoulder into Daryl before turning back to get the bartender’s attention. Daryl took a look back over at his friends. Michonne was leaning on Rick now, his arm around her and hand running up and down her arm. Abraham’s focus was solely on Sasha now, and surprisingly, she seemed to be reciprocating. Glenn and Maggie were in deep conversation with Tobin and Carol, but Daryl could see Tobin’s hand slowly inching towards Carol’s on the table. They’d be holding hands soon. He turned back to Jesus to be greeted with a bright smile as the younger man pushed a new drink towards him. Daryl didn’t think twice about taking it this time.

 

Daryl didn’t know how much time had passed, but he kept count of the empty glasses sitting on the bar top in front of him. There were about four and a half now. Daryl felt the tingle of a buzz starting in the back of his head. The benefits of being a hard drinker since age thirteen; he could throw back at least three bottles of Jack Daniels and still keep some kind of coherency. He was thankful for that too, because if he were of a weaker constitution, there would be no way in hell he could keep up with Jesus’ yammering mouth. 

From the moment Daryl took that second drink from him, the other man would not shut his damn mouth. He kept going on and on, from his childhood in Virginia, a few wild years at college and another year teaching English in Kyoto, to moving to Atlanta with friends in the hopes of starting a micro-brewery. Daryl knew he was a fucking hipster. Still, all Daryl could do was politely nod and give the occasional “hmm” whenever the man paused for a breath. 

Jesus tried asking Daryl about himself, but the older man kept his answers brief and somewhat cryptic. It’s not like he could relate to anything that Jesus was saying. His folks never paid for him to take Judo lessons as a kid. The only defense he learned growing up was what he had to when he got tired of his old man and that damn leather belt. He couldn’t ever afford to go to fancy schools and read books by Michel Foucault or George Mosse. His dirty ass would never be welcomed in a gallery, so he had no idea who Jesus was talking about when he kept bringing up Mappelthorpe and Adi Nes, or how the way they changed his views on the ideal of masculinity…whatever the hell that meant. 

If the difference between them wasn’t embarrassing enough, the whole time Jesus was talking to him he kept his head tilted with that damn smile on his face. A look of blissful amusement, like Daryl was the most interesting thing he had ever seen, and he didn’t know what the hell to do with it. When Daryl let it slip that he worked part-time fixing up bikes, Jesus got a real intrigued look on his face and turned full body towards Daryl. With his full attention on him, Daryl got uncomfortable and tried to hide behind his fringe of hair—too greasy, he was just now noticing. Jesus just leaned in closer and asked him more about it.

“Didn’t figure you for the bike ridin’ type,” Daryl scoffed. 

“Come on, you of all people should know that looks can be deceiving, Daryl,” he countered. 

“The hell that’s supposed to mean?”

“Well,” Jesus took a deep breath, “take yourself for instance. To anyone else here, you look like you could be trouble. But when you stop and take a closer look…”Jesus leaned in close, face just a few inches from Daryl’s. A finger reached out and trailed the wings on the back of his vest. Daryl could feel he tip of the finger tracing along the stitching, giving him chills. 

Jesus' incandescent eyes went from holding Daryl’s to flashing down to his lips. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what would happen next. Daryl had always been a creature of instincts. At the moment, the old instincts of his childhood whenever he found himself in a situation he didn’t know how to handle (a group of gossiping girls staring at him in the school hallway, Merle’s twitchy little meth dealer freaking out, his dad on another drunken bender and looking for a reason to get his hands bloody) and that was fight or flight. When Jesus began to close the gap between them, Daryl’s instinct told him to choose the latter.

The sound of the barstool pushing back against the floor was so loud to his ears that Daryl was afraid that everyone in the bar had heard it. He gave a quick glance around, afraid to see everyone’s eyes on him, but saw that everyone was still wrapped up in their own conversations and good times to pay him any mind. His group was still blissfully unaware of him. It stung a little, if he was being honest with himself.

When he was brave enough, he looked back down to Jesus. Daryl didn’t know why, but he expected him to look sad, or at the very least confused. The little shit was full of surprises, though, because the look he got was another one of amusement. Those full lips of his were crooked from the smirk he was sporting. Eyebrows were lifted, making those blue eyes even bigger, knowing.

“I’m gonna…Yeah…Thanks for the drink.”

Daryl turned and walked away without a destination in mind. He couldn’t go outside to his car—though the need for a cigarette was overwhelming—seeing how Carol was his damn ride. He couldn’t go back to the group, they may ask questions (or somehow know) that he didn’t want to answer. The only option left to him for escape was the bathroom, as cowardly as that was. It was a single stall room, only one toilet and urinal and a sink, that didn’t get much traffic from the men in the bar. It was a good place to hide out…maybe even escape if there was a window.

When he pushed through the line of women waiting for their turn for their own bathroom, he almost fell through the door. He straightened himself up and locked the door behind him before he leaned against it. Daryl felt out of breathe all of the sudden. The wood of the door felt cool against his skin as he stood there, trying to keep his chest from heaving too hard. He could feel the pounding of his heart running all the way through him, banging in his eardrums. Daryl put his fist to the door, his knuckles white from the strain, and did all he could to keep himself from punching it. Instead he let out a deep breath of air—his bangs blowing from his eyes momentarily—and used the fist to push himself back.

Daryl let loose his fist and used his hand to wipe the sweat that had formed on his brow. He saw the grime that had wiped away with it as well as a smudge of grease. He had been working on a bike for his neighbor Aaron before group that night and hadn’t bothered to shower, hadn’t seen the need for it. Daryl went to wash his hand off in the sink and for the first time that night caught a good look at himself in the mirror. Even in the dim light he could see a sheen of sweat along his forehead as well as a streak of grease just along his left eyebrow. There was a fine layer of dirt along his cheek as well, and his beard was looking scraggly and unkempt. 

He reached for a paper towel, wetted it, and began to scrub at his face. Daryl wiped at as much dirt, dust, and who knows what the hell else until his skin began to feel raw. He kept his eyes on the mirror, though, almost fascinated by the way the tone of his skin was changed from the cleaning. His group, so long as he didn’t come around smelling like dead squirrel, never really minded his dirty habits. Occasionally someone—usually Abraham—would make a comment about his appearance, likening him to Pigpen or say something about the cloud of dust that could come off of his jeans. Carol always told him that he would probably clean up nice, but she was never one to push him for it. So it was no surprise that no one said anything about all of this layer of filth he was wiping away. It was a surprise how, looking like a mess, he somehow caught the eye and attention of Jesus.

Daryl’s hand stopped and he pulled the dirty paper towel away from his chin.

“What the hell am I doin’?” He muttered. Daryl let out a sigh and tossed the paper towel into the overflowing trash bin. “Jesus Christ.”

“Just Jesus, please.”

Daryl jumped and turned, fist raised instinctively, ready to take a swing at whatever was behind him. He was only just able to stop himself when he saw Jesus there, leaning with his back against the door. There was an impish gleam in his eye and that damnable smirk was back on his lips. He stared at Daryl, waiting for the older man to either hit him or say something.

“…That door was locked,” Daryl finally managed to get out.

“Yes,” he nodded, “it was.”

Daryl kept his eyes on the other man as his hand went behind himself, locking the door again. How the hell had he gotten in there? Without Daryl even hearing it? Who the fuck was this guy?

“What do ya want?”

Wrong question to ask. Daryl realized that the second the words left his lips. Jesus’ playful look morphed into a full leer. Those bright eyes were clouding now in a way that Daryl did not understand, nor even want to begin to comprehend. When Jesus took a step towards him, Daryl took one back, but his hip hit the sink. He could feel his heart pounding again, making him feel like a trapped animal. He felt instinct rearing his ugly head. Fight or flight. Either knock the shit out of this guy or push him out of the way and make another escape. Daryl felt his fingers twitch, the will to make a fist there, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Fight or flight, Dixon. Take your damn pick.

Daryl couldn’t move. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force his two feet to move out of the way before Jesus was directly in front of him. He could push him now. Knock the little fucker over and be done with this once and for all. Still, he couldn’t force himself to do it.

Jesus put his hand on Daryl’s chest, over his vest, and the older man flinched. Jesus was saying something to him, whispering as if Daryl were some kind of spooked horse, but it was all white noise to him. He couldn’t focus on any words spoken to him when he felt Jesus’ other hand coming up behind his neck, fingers going into his hair. 

“You are so beautiful,” Jesus whispered, his eyes looking straight into Daryl’s.

“…What?”

The hand on his chest moved, fingers curling into his vest and the shirt beneath. With surprising strength, Jesus pushed Daryl against the sink. The hand at the back of his neck brought him down. Full lips met his own. 

Daryl’s body froze, fingers gripped to the sink countertop. Jesus’ lips pressed against his own softly, sweetly. A small kiss that ended just as quickly as it began when Jesus pulled back. He looked directly into Daryl’s eyes, asking a question without speaking the words. _Is this ok?_

Daryl couldn’t take it. His face felt like it was burning, but his limbs were shaking like he was cold. He ducked his head and looked away. Somehow, staring at the dirty, chipped paint wall didn’t make the situation any better. Jesus’ hands were still on him, holding him loosely but still, giving him the choice of wanting to stay or not. Daryl felt a tingle go down his spine when he felt the blunt nails of Jesus’ fingers graze the skin lightly on the back of his neck.

“…What…what did you do that for?” Daryl mumbled. He didn’t know why he asked it, though. Maybe if only to just distract himself from the sound of his heart pounding.

“Because you’re hot,” Jesus said without missing a beat. “But, more than that, you’re good guy, and I like you.”

“…You don’t even know me.”

“I know that you’re not beating the shit out of me right now, which I hope means that you might like me a little bit as well,” he laughed. Daryl just shrugged his shoulder noncommittally. 

The hand on his chest went to his cheek, and Daryl let himself be turned to face him. Jesus was smiling, and for once it wasn’t playful. It was honest, almost sweet. His thumb moved along the cheekbone that Daryl had just been scrubbing raw. In the back of his mind, Daryl was glad he had removed the sweat and grime beforehand.

“Can I kiss you again?”

What the hell kind of question was that? Jesus was the one making all of the moves here, so it didn’t make sense to Daryl that he was being handed over the power to take things further. He gave the smaller man a non-committal shrug and mumbled something that sounded like a ‘whatever,’ which Jesus found amusing for some reason.

“I’ll take it.”

Jesus closed the gap between them again. His lips pressed against Daryl’s with more force this time, and his head tilted to the side to keep their noses from bumping. Daryl kept still as those lips moved against his. Tiny kisses at first that were growing into longer, lingering ones when he caught Daryl’s bottom lip. Jesus’ breath felt warm on his skin, and the fingers in his hair were lightly scratching his scalp. It felt nice, relaxing, and Daryl’s eyes slipped closed. He told himself that he was parting his lips just so he could take in more air, not so that Jesus could take the opportunity to swipe his tongue inside. Daryl gave a little grunt when he did, but Jesus just laughed and did it again. The hand on the back of his head pulled him closer, giving Daryl nowhere to run when Jesus’ tongue slipped back into his mouth. Daryl resigned himself to it, sliding his tongue against Jesus’.

The sounds of low moans hit Daryl’s ear, but he wasn’t sure whether they were coming from Jesus or himself. For his own sake, he let himself believe they were coming from the smaller man. Being cornered like this was embarrassing enough, he didn’t need to go making an ass of himself by moaning like a whore over a kiss.

Their knees bumped when Jesus tried to press himself closer, and Daryl let out a grunt from having his hip bumped into the countertop. When Jesus pulled back from their kiss, Daryl thought that the younger man may have been done with him. Those blue eyes had an evil glint in them, though, and before Daryl could even guess what that meant, he felt those hands on him move down under his ass. Daryl won’t admit to letting out a yelp when Jesus—again with strength that Daryl wouldn’t believe—lifted him up to sit on the countertop. The surprise of it gave Jesus the chance to push Daryl’s knees apart so that he could stand between them.

He went in for another kiss and Daryl got his composure back. He pushed Jesus away and said, “I ain’t no damn girl.”

Jesus’ smiled and shook his head. His hands ran along his hips, over his legs and down to his knees before making the trek back up. His fingers hooked into Daryl’s pockets and tugged. 

“Relax, Daryl. I’m not going to bite. Not until you ask, anyway,” he grinned. 

“Quit saying shit like that, man,” Daryl said. He turned his head to the side so that he wouldn’t have to look at that damn serene smile the other man was sporting. Unfortunately, doing so let him catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His face was beet red and his ears felt like they were burning. God, this was humiliating.

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat when he felt those lips press against his neck. He could feel Jesus hum against his skin as he pressed small, open mouth kisses down his neck and towards his collarbone. He suckled a little at the skin there, and this time Daryl couldn’t deny that the soft moan came from him.

“So shy,” Jesus murmured. “Adorable.”

“Ain’t nothin’ adorable about me, asshole.”

“Just keep telling yourself that.”

Jesus kissed at Daryl’s skin, making a trail over his Adam’s apple and up to his jaw. Daryl kept his chin pointed up and tried to concentrate on his breathing, but he couldn’t deny that this was starting to feel good. When Jesus pressed a kiss against his cheek, he took Daryl’s hands and moved them so that they were wrapped around his neck, holding him loosely. The hair loose from Jesus’ bun was tickling his skin, so without thinking about it, Daryl reached up to pull the hair tie out. With all of that hair falling loose, Daryl could see now how the man had earned his nickname. He looked—Daryl refused say pretty—nice like this. His hair was soft in Daryl’s fingers, the kind of silky smooth that Daryl was used to seeing advertised in magazines and he didn’t expect anyone to actually have. Daryl wrapped his fingers around it and Jesus dove back in, kissing Daryl hard. 

Lips parted, tongues slid against each other and both men were breathing hard. They kissed like that for a while. Daryl’s arm around Jesus and the other man trying his hardest to press against Daryl as much as he could. When he couldn’t get close enough, he hooked his hands under Daryl’s thighs and tugged him to himself, causing Daryl’s groin to hit his stomach. Daryl grunted, Jesus moaned and hands were all over him, trying to feel everything. They slipped under Daryl’s shirt, sliding over his stomach and going to his back. He shivered at the nails that scratched up his spine. 

“Fuck,” Daryl whispered. 

“Eventually,” Jesus answered.

“Asshole.”

“You like it.”

Daryl kissed him again just to shut his mouth. Jesus didn’t seem to mind, if the smile he felt against his lips was anything to go by. It was almost infuriating how much this guy smiled, especially the way he smiled at Daryl. The way he had looked at Daryl all night was something that the older man hadn’t really experienced before. Merle loved him, but always saw him as his lackey—which Daryl could admit he was. When he looked into Rick’s eyes he saw a kind of respect and kinship there. Carol’s eyes held a love and tenderness that he hadn’t seen since before his mom had died, and it made Daryl feel safer than he had in years. The way Jesus looked at him—all clear, kind eyes and tender smiles—made Daryl feel like he was the only person in the room. The attention made him feel uncomfortable and vulnerable, like he wanted to run and hide…but at the same time, it felt nice to be noticed for once. 

Tonight everyone had been so wrapped up in each other that they couldn’t see Daryl being pushed out of their circle. Jesus saw him, though. If he pulled Jesus a little closer to himself, Daryl paid it no mind.

Their breathing was growing heavier, until the both of them were near panting. Daryl could feel his lips beginning to swell. That hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager having his first awkward make out session with a girl whose kisses were too wet. He remembered that she had tried to give him a handjob during their kissing, and he had all but bolted from the couch. Fight or flight. He had no idea what he would do now if he felt Jesus go towards his belt.

Fate saved him from making that choice. A pounding came from the outside of the bathroom door. Jesus seemed like he was going to ignore it—kissing Daryl like he was a man starved—but Daryl pushed him back.

“Hey!” A voice called from outside. “Jesus, you in there?”

Jesus rolled his eyes. He groaned and leaned his forehead against Daryl’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he called back.

“Crystal’s ready to go. You coming?”

“I wish,” he said to himself. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Just hurry it up, man.” 

The voice went silent after that. Jesus let out a loud sigh, slipping his hands out from Daryl’s shirt. The older man pulled his arms back from around Jesus’ neck and tried to lean back against the mirror, but Jesus held him close in a loose hug.

“ ‘s that your ride?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Jesus sighed again. “He has the worst timing.”

“Why? You expectin’ something?”

Jesus smiled and pressed a small kiss to Daryl’s lips. “Nothing that you weren’t ready for. I’m nothing if not a gentleman, after all. I just wanted to spend a little more time with you.”

“Why?”

“Really?” He laughed. “I think I’ve already made myself clear; I like you. I could give you a long list of reasons why, but seeing how hard it is for you to take a compliment, just take my word for it.”

“…Alright.”

“Good.” 

Jesus ducked back in for another kiss, a longer lingering one this time. There was another pounding at the door.

“Fuck’s sake, Ethan, I’ll be right out!” The pounding stopped and Jesus groaned. 

Wait a minute…

“Ethan? Wasn’t that the dick from the bar?”

Jesus bit his lip to hold back a smile. Blue eyes flicked down in a guilty look. Confused, Daryl pushed Jesus back enough so that he could slip off of the sink countertop.

“What the hell? Thought that was your fuckin’ ex?”

“I never said that we dated,” Jesus said. 

“Then what the fuck was all that shit about!?” Daryl’s voice was raised at the confusion, and at the mild hurt he felt in his chest.

“You were sitting there all alone, looking like you didn’t have a friend in the world, and I had to find some way to talk to you,” Jesus shrugged. 

“You lied to me?”

“I know it looks bad, but that little trick did let me know what I needed to about you.”

“Like what?” He huffed.

Jesus looked at him in that tender way again and stepped up to Daryl. He didn’t let the older man push him away again, and he wrapped his arms around Daryl’s neck. 

“It told me that you’re a good guy, someone who puts their neck out for people they don’t even know. It also let me know that you wouldn’t kick my ass for doing this.”

He finished that thought by kissing Daryl again. Hard and fast this time, like he was making a point.

“Fuckin’ prick,” Daryl huffed, still red from anger and embarrassment. He felt himself relaxing just a little under Jesus’ bright eyes, though. Eyes that looked only at him.

“So cute when you’re mad,” Jesus laughed and shook his head. “I should probably find my friends before they try to leave without me. Call me soon.” 

Another kiss and then he was pulling back and walking towards the door.

“I ain’t fuckin’ calling you,” Daryl scoffed. 

“You will.” He said with confidence. "Give it a couple of days."

Jesus unlocked the door and slipped out without another word, leaving Daryl standing there and wondering what the hell just happened. He dared to take a look at himself in the mirror and felt a new wave of embarrassment at his appearance. His hair was tousled, lips red and swollen, and face flushed. Shit…Daryl doesn’t know what the hell came over him, or why that weird feeling in his stomach refused to go away. He stomped out of the bathroom, not even bothering to fix his hair. Not like anyone would notice anyway. The only person paying attention to him had already left.

Daryl walked outside, intent on getting a cigarette to calm his nerves. When he got out there, he was surprised to see that his group were all out there as well, standing together in a close circle and talking. Maggie said something to Sasha before the two of them hugged. Abraham was still running his mouth if Tobin’s laughing was anything to go by. It was Glenn who finally spotted him by the door and waved him over.

“Daryl, there you are.”

“Hey,” Daryl nodded. 

“Where have you been?” Rick asked. “Haven’t seen you all night.”

“I was at the bar,” Daryl shrugged. 

“Didn’t see you on the way out,” Michonne said. 

“Must’ve been when I was takin’ a leak.”

Michonne and Rick shared a look, but didn’t say anything. Daryl was glad for it, but became uneasy when he saw that their shared look was turning into something a little more between them. The way Rick’s been looking at Michonne for months—and how the hell could she not have noticed it?—and it’s a wonder this hadn’t happened sooner. 

“You ready to go?” Carol asked, her hand rubbing his arm in a soothing way.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You good to drive?”

“She’s not,” Tobin said. “But I’ve only had root beer tonight. Safety first.”

“Such a gentleman, letting the lady have her wine,” she teased.

Daryl nodded. Eventually everyone started up their long goodbyes. Talk of how much fun they had and plans to get together with everyone again soon. Daryl got a quick hug from Maggie and a handshake from Glenn, but got stuck there while they started thanking everyone else and accepting their congratulations for the baby. Daryl figured he had time for a smoke after all. 

So he ducked out of their circle again and walked to lean against the wall. He put the cigarette between his lips and dug into his pocket to retrieve his lighter. He felt something strange against his Zippo, though. Confused, Daryl pulled out a folded piece of paper that hadn’t been there before. He opened it up and immediately regretted it. On the paper was a phone number and a note.

_Call me sometime. I want to see how red your adorable face can get.  
\- Jesus._

When the hell had he put this in his pocket? Little shit was fucking slippery as hell. Daryl’s eyes looked over the note again and again. He could picture Jesus writing the note. Sitting at the bar, corner of his lip turned up in a smirk, and bright eyes playful, all too pleased with himself for the reactions he was getting out of Daryl. 

The right thing to do would be to toss the note in the trash and not think of this shit ever again. Chalk it up to a strange night out, go back home and get back to his normal life.

A loud laugh made him look up. Everyone in the group had their head thrown back laughing at something that someone had said. Daryl stood on the outside of their circle looking in. They all looked so happy together, and he felt a pang in his chest. A wanting to join in the crowd, to be seen.

He slipped Jesus’ number back into his pocket. Fucking prick… He’d wait a week before he called him.


End file.
